


Fingers cross when I kiss you

by KaisaSegher



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dorks in Love, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Smut, Some Humor, but they don't know it yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 02:47:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20649941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaisaSegher/pseuds/KaisaSegher
Summary: While on a camping trip Robb throws Jon out of their tent so he can sleep with his girlfriend. And Jon is a good friend. He really is. But some lonely brooding by the fire ensues.





	Fingers cross when I kiss you

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, guys! I know, I know, I should be working on my other stuff, but this story has been swimming around for a while now (almost two years or something) and I just needed to finish it. Mostly gratuitous smut and some awkwardness. Enjoy!

Jon stirred the dying embers with a stick, his free hand delving deep into his pocket as if that would scare away the cold, his sleeping bag safely tucked under his arm.

Why had he agreed to this, when he knew full well what would eventually happen?

He kicked a rock on the ground, absently. As much as he loved camping he had hoped at least to get a decent night’s sleep. But how stupid was he, really, when Robb had brought his girlfriend along? And how stupid was he, for sharing a tent with him instead of Sam or even Theon, both of them snoring loudly by now – almost loud enough to cover Margaery’s and Robb’s disgusting pants.

Jon sat down over his sleeping bag and curled his arms around his knees, sinking his chin behind them. If he was being completely honest – though he didn’t want to – he was a little jealous of his best mate. The memory of the last time Jon had been with a girl was starting to fade away, the details blurrier with each passing day. And it was a terribly cold night and, just like that gigantic ginger guy from work had told him once, whatever Robb and Margaery were doing was the best way to get warm.

He stared at the flames, brow furrowed as he cursed himself a thousand times. If only Robb hadn’t brought Margaery along, and if only Margaery hadn’t brought Sansa with her too, arguing she didn’t want to be the only girl on a boys’ trip. If Sansa wasn’t there at least Jon would have brought his own tent, instead of assuming the two girls would be sharing hers. Not one of them making puppy-eyes at Robb, and then Robb making puppy-eyes at Jon.

At least he was the one being left outside, and not Sansa. Sansa hated camping. Sansa hated the outdoors, in general. Bugs, anything that crawled, the dirt, the absence of modern bathrooms. If she was the one outside alone that night she would have died by then.

Jon wrapped himself in his sleeping bag instead, as if it was a cape, humming a song that was stuck in his head since he had heard it on the car radio that morning, as if that would banish the image of Robb naked and-

No, he needed to think about something else. Something else, like the gentle rustling of the trees in the night wind. Or the way the moon shone up above, painting everything silver…

He heard a rustling behind him, quickly reaching for the stone he had kicked mere moments ago. Though what he’d do with it wasn’t totally clear. Throw it at a bear? Smash some psychopathic killer’s head with it? And then what? Just hide the body in the woods?

Jon looked over his shoulder, his heart beating a little faster than before. A full moon shone in the night sky, so it wasn’t difficult to identify the dark slender figure that walked towards him.

“Bloody hell, you’ve frightened me” he muttered between gritted teeth, releasing his rock and looking at the shy flames again. “I thought everyone would be asleep by now.”

She knelt beside him, stretching her perfectly manicured hands towards the fire.

They heard a muffled moan, and she raised her eyebrows at him.

“Did you now? With those two being so… like them?” she teased, but her blue eyes averted his this time. “I couldn’t sleep. It’s too cold and there’s too much crawling noises. And then I heard someone moving outside and thought even a serial killer would be a better company than a snake attacking me in the dead of night.”

Jon chuckled, looking away. Only she could look so adorable wearing an old purple sweatshirt three sizes too big, her hands disappearing into the sleeves. And he couldn’t look at her. He had done plenty of that all day, and even Theon had noticed it, elbowing Jon’s ribs when they had paused atop a particularly steep cliff. It was hardly Jon’s fault that she looked so beautiful with her cheeks so pink and some red curls sticking to her sweaty neck.

And it wasn’t his fault either, when a wide smile had brightened up her face while she marvelled at the sight bellow them. The sharp cliffs cradling the deep blue lake, the setting sun painting the trees gold. Robb had kissed Margaery again on top of that hill, and another bolt of envy had stung Jon. He had been alone for a while. Not that he usually complained about his situation. Most of the time he was completely oblivious to it.

On this trip, though, he was painfully aware of it.

The fire crackled gently, as even the happy couple was silent now. Maybe they had finally fallen asleep. But Jon was too traumatised for that now. He needed something to shake that awful thought away.

And that something definitely wasn’t Sansa, sitting next to him, without uttering a single word.

He didn’t know what to say to her either. They had spent almost all day together, they both knew what they had done with their respective days. And surely he couldn’t just dissert endlessly about his boring job or his uninteresting interests, could he?

Anyway, maybe he should just keep to himself, as he always did. He had never been good at talking, in general. Even less with her, a girl that until a couple of months ago – when she had finally broken up with yet another shitty boyfriend – had never shared more than a couple of words with him.

Jon tried to sallow the lump in his throat, stirring the embers again with his stick, though there was no need for that.

Maybe, just to break that awkward silence, he could ask her about that new show about that queen… He knew she watched it, she watched every period drama in existence. But which queen was that one about again?

Well, there was another show – Jon was hooked on that one – and he was sure she would love it, though it was a little on the gory side. But, hey, there was a great love story in there too. He supposed. Maybe she watched it too, or maybe he could recommend it to her.

Or maybe he should just keep quiet. He was better at that than talking anyway.

“Did they really have the nerve to leave you outside?” she asked, and Jon almost thanked her for taking that silent burden from his shoulders, finally releasing the breath he had been holding.

Jon chuckled again.

It might be because of his nerves, chuckling so much. He needed to control it.

“It wasn’t like that. I’m so stupid I volunteered” he said, his eyes on the fire again.

Through the corner of his eyes he saw her roll hers, but it was her turn to laugh.

“Always too kind for your own good, aren’t you, Jon Snow?”

“Aye, I know nothing” he agreed. And now he missed the awkward silence.

She giggled again, but a shiver interrupted her, and Jon wanted to slap himself now. Of course she was cold. _He_ was cold. And she had said she couldn’t sleep because she was cold, that small fire he had brought back from the dead wouldn’t keep her warm. Obviously.

“I, hmm… I brought…” He really wanted to slap himself, and he felt his cheeks burn instead. But the air wasn’t as hot as he felt it when he finally felt brave enough to look at her. She had a beautiful face, even half hidden by the hood of her sweater and her red hair. Her hair was nice too. And the half-smile she had offered him, as if she was encouraging him to continue. That was nice too. “I have my sleeping bag. If you want it.”

He opened his arms so he could give it to her. He had always endured the cold better than her anyway.

Jon’s heart stopped beating, and his breath got caught in his throat, two slender arms curling around his middle as she crawled under his sleeping bag, resting her head on his chest.

He swallowed a surprised gasp, resting one hand on his thigh and the other floating above her shoulder, uncertain if that was allowed or not. After all, she was his best mate’s sister. Not that that mattered much. It mattered more that she didn’t want Jon to touch her.

And yet the scent of her shampoo hit his nose. They had taken turns to wash on a nearby stream before dinner, and Jon knew he had not been very thorough with his task – at least not with his hair – because the water was freezing. But somehow her hair smelt of lemons and roses or something equal parts sweet and fresh.

Like her, he supposed.

So he curled his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer just a little bit, his body painfully aware of the warmth radiating from hers, scorching him.

She was really annoying, when she wanted to. She fought over the silliest of things, as long as she thought she was on the right. She demanded everything to be just so – really, she had brought her own cutlery, refusing to eat with a plastic fork. And sometimes she embellished things a little too much for Jon’s sullen taste. Like her boyfriends’ possessiveness of her. She had actually stopped talking to him for a couple of months when Jon had tried to explain some guy forbidding you to see your friends wasn’t exactly because he was super in love with you but just another form of abuse. It had been none of his business, really. Jon just had overheard a conversation and decided to meddle. But that had hurt him still, because he knew her from the day she had been born, and she was always visiting Robb, and Robb lived with Jon.

But she was impossibly sweet too. When Jon had gotten his first girlfriend she had given him an endless list of dos and don’ts. She squeezed his hand, when she knew he was sad, though she never asked why and they weren’t even what one would call friends. And she had agreed to come on this camping trip for her friend, even though she hated camping.

She gave a little sigh of content, her nose nudging his neck as she readjusted herself, her soft thigh slowly crawling over his, and Jon had to blink ten times to assure himself he wasn’t dreaming. She could hear his heart, drumming against her, and he had to control it. He had to slow it down, just like the ragged breath threatening to escape his lips.

“Hmm, you’re so warm” she whispered, her breath fanning against his skin, and Jon felt his ears burn. The hand she had on his stomach ghosted over his chest, her fingertips carefully reaching up to brush against his beard.

Or maybe his mind was just playing tricks on him, for in a heartbeat her hand was gone.

Was she sleep-walking? Sleep-talking, more like. Or was she drunk? They had had a couple of beers after dinner, but still… She wasn’t that lightweight. Was she?

Jon closed his eyes, releasing a broken sigh as he leaned in search for her touch again, praying that he hadn’t imagined it. This time her cold fingers traced his jaw, and her thumb caressed his cheek.

No. He hadn’t imagined it.

“The beard suits you.” Jon could barely hear her voice, as if she was talking to herself. “Makes you look more handsome.”

“I… Hmm… I’m glad you like it.” Jon frowned. Sansa had always rambled about smooth faced boys. But he didn’t know what to say to her. “Thank you. So… Hmm… Do you feel better now?”

She nodded, her cold nose nuzzling his neck.

“Thank you, Jon.”

They both fell silent, finally enjoying the gentle quietness of the wind ruffling the trees or the crackling of the fire or some stray owl up above. Jon didn’t know if an hour had passed, or maybe just some minutes when Sansa’s steady breathing against his skin – like she was already fast asleep – made Jon finally unclench his jaw and find the courage to wrap his other arm around her. There was nothing wrong about this. Just two friends, hugging each other because one was cold and scared and the other was cold and bored.

But it certainly felt like something else when Jon thought it was okay to stroke Sansa’s silky hair, marvelling at how smooth it was, running through his rough fingers. Or when she run her hand soothingly up and down his back. Or when Jon even dared pressing the lightest of kisses to her temple, lowering his eyes just in time to catch a peaceful smile on her face.

If felt strange. Like an alternative reality to which they did not normally belong. If felt strange that it didn’t feel more awkward or surreal. And yet he knew that if he let her go he would break. So Jon didn’t, his hand gently rubbing her arm to keep her warm.

Her fingers caressed his beard again, and for a brief moment Jon could swear her lips had brushed against his, the sheer shock of her action freezing him, paralyzing him. All too soon her soft lips and her gentle hand were gone, leaving his still tingling. He was going mad. He was imagining things, he was sure of that. He was dreaming and soon enough he would wake up curled up next to nothing but ashes.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-“ she mumbled, stiffening in his arms and avoiding his incredulous gaze. “I just thought… The way you look at me. I don’t know, that time at Robb’s birthday… Never mind, I’m sorry.”

He lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him again, his eyes dancing over her face, like the soft golden shadows from the fire cast over it. He brushed a curl from her cheek, his fingers barely touching her, and Sansa bit her lip.

“Don’t be” he whispered, his thumb freeing her lip. She looked at him again, a deep frown over her bright blue eyes. “Please, Sansa. Don’t be sorry.”

Jon leaned forward, capturing her mouth not so gently this time, his hand cradling her neck. A soft hum echoed along his body, and he didn’t care if it was his or hers. The sleeping bag slipped from his shoulders, but he wasn’t cold anymore, not when she opened her lips with a mewl and her tongue found his, her deft fingers carding through his curls sending a tingle down his spine.

He frowned, trying to wrap his mind around it all. She had kissed him. And now he was kissing her, or they were kissing each other. And though Jon had decided a while ago – longer than he wished to admit even to himself – that any guy allowed to kiss her would be absurdly lucky, he never thought he’d be one of them.

She crawled over him, sitting on his lap without even breaking the kiss, her breasts deliciously pressed against his chest when Jon’s hands settled on the small of her back to pull her closer. She moaned, pulling away from him, searching for air, but he caught her lower lip between his teeth, nipping carefully. She moaned again, both arms around his neck, trapping him against her. And he had no wish to be free, ever again. Not when he didn’t know how long this would last. How long until she realised she didn’t want this.

But no. She was the one sucking out his tongue until there was nothing else on his mind but the intoxicating taste of her mouth. She was the one rocking her hips against him in time with the movements of her lips, like an ensnaring dance. Jon’s cock twitched against his will, a broken growl escaping his lips as he whipped his head back, finally parting from her.

“Oh, Jon!” She covered her mouth, adoringly mortified and making Jon forget he was the one that should be ashamed. “Christ, I’m so sorry. Ugh, I’m so stupid!”

He chuckled, cupping her cheeks to kiss her again. He would never get enough of this, he realized. He would never be able to live without this ever again. She had broken him. With a ghost of a kiss and her gentle fingers she had ruined him.

“You’re not” he argued, his thumbs brushing her cheeks, waiting for her eyes to find his again. They did, peeking shyly under her long red lashes, and he couldn’t help the grin that spread on his face. “If anything I’m the stupid one. You had the guts to do what I wasn’t brave enough to do.”

She giggled, rewarding him with a peck on the cheek and hugging him again.

“It’s too cold in here” she whispered against his ear, her lips dragging along his jaw.

Jon looked around, his hands searching for the sleeping bag again. But she had already stood up, her hand tugging at his.

“Sansa” he sighed, standing before her, his fingers tangled in hers.

God, he wanted it. He wanted it so much it almost hurt. Well, it kind of hurt, his jeans a little too tight now.

She turned around, walking towards her and Margaery’s tent, but Jon’s feet wouldn’t move. He couldn’t. He couldn’t believe it. It was time to wake up. Time to realise this was just another one of his dreams – those dreams that forced him to look at his feet each time he passed by her. He had tried to bury those feelings at first, because it felt wrong to wrap his hand around his cock when his best mate’s sister was behind his eyelids.

Or maybe she just wanted to talk. Maybe she was indeed cold but was too scared to be on her own. Maybe it was just that.

So he followed her, stumbling on his own feet. Unlike her, hips swinging confidently in front of him. She released his hand, crawling inside the tent. Jon almost couldn’t see her, but somehow he decided to follow her anyway, zipping the entrance behind him.

A pair of lean arms curled around his neck, pulling him down, and Jon barely caught himself before he crushed her under his weight.

“Ouch” she gasped “My hair!”

Jon sat up as if something had pinched him.

“Oh, fuck!” he shouted, covering his mouth fearing he’d woken up everyone else. “Shit, Sansa, I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”

Her phone lit up next to her hip, and Jon could finally make out her face. She was biting her lip, like she was trying not to burst out laughing.

“It’s funny for you? Is my concern funny for you?” he growled, burying his face on the crook of her neck, sucking her pulse. Her giggles were still muffled by her hand and he smiled against her skin. He liked it when she laughed. He liked it even better when he made her laugh, though he had no particular talent for it.

He supported himself on one hand beside her head, the other tracing the curve of her hip, her waist, slowly, as if he was trying to memorize it. He didn’t know if he’d have another chance to touch her ever again, so he would enjoy this right now and worry about it later.

She turned her head towards him, searching for his lips as her fingers grazed his stomach under his sweater and Jon groaned at the contact. He had imagined it a thousand times, and he had dreamt it a thousand times, and still nothing came even close to this moment.

“Can I?” she asked, curling her hands around the edge of his sweater, tugging it up. “Or is it too cold?”

He gave her a smug smile, and she rolled her eyes at him.

“I’m not cold” he said, sitting up to let her undress him, his hands reaching behind his neck to help her. “Not anymore.”

On the contrary. The air was rather warm around them now, even without the fire. But there was another fire, deep in his chest, burning him from the inside out. And then Sansa’s body, moving under his, her touch scorching him to the bone.

“Good God…” he heard her whisper while he tossed his shirt somewhere.

Her eyes were wide, crawling down his chest all the way to his navel and then up again, her hand frozen mere inches away from his stomach. And for a heartbeat Jon didn’t feel so inadequate in her presence. Maybe – just maybe – he wasn’t so bad himself after all. Her eyes searched his and he dearly hoped his blush wasn’t too noticeable with nothing but her phone to light the small tent. Jon nodded, and she finally let her fingers meet his skin, his muscles fluttering under her touch.

He closed his eyes, enjoying her attention. The soft brush of the pulps of her fingers mapping his flesh, her bare heel rubbing gently against his calve. A hand, reaching to comb through his hair. She panted almost inaudibly, and for a wild moment Jon wondered if she had dreamt it too. If she had yearned for it for as long as he had.

But Jon’s mind was foggy, his blood boiling in his veins. He reached down to capture her lips again. Her impossibly delicious and inviting lips. Mentally thanking her for taking that timid step – on his knees if he could. If there was enough room on that tiny tent for that.

He swallowed the moan that escaped her mouth, mingling with his own when he rocked his hips against hers, almost by instinct, trying to find the friction he so desperately needed. But he realised it would never be satisfying, for neither of them, not with so many layers of clothes between them.

And he wanted to please her first. More than anything. Hear her soft whimpers, his name dripping from her mouth-watering lips. He reached lower, between their bodies, his hand uncertain about touching her or not, but then her sweater had rolled up ever so slightly just so Jon’s fingertips could brush against the soft skin of her belly, quivering with each gentle stroke. Her hands roamed freely up and down his back now as she gently nipped at his lower lip, filling him with such sweetness he had never known before. He had kissed women before, of course. It had taken him long enough, but there had been a few before her, yes.

But she was difficult to ignore, especially with that bright smile and those bright eyes and that bright hair of hers. How passionate she was about things she loved. People weren’t always gentle towards her. Some people had actually taken advantage of her kindness – mistaking it for naivety when it wasn’t – and yet she had remained the same joyful girl he had basically grown up with.

Unlike him, brooding every damn time life cheated him.

Like that time when they were finally both single at the same time and he hadn’t dared ask her out for some coffee, afraid of ruining his and Robb’s friendship.

But that wasn’t the point right now. Certainly not when his knuckles brushed against the damp fabric between her thighs and she groaned against his cheek. He jerked his hand away from her, afraid he had frightened her.

She covered his hand with hers instead, pressing it to the front of her trousers again, another leg hooking around his waist to give him more room.

“Touch me, Jon” she almost begged against his ear. And no song would have pleased him more. “Touch me. Please…”

He rubbed her through the fabric, his cock jolting with each small gasp she gave, his fingers just as wet as her trousers now, his chest swallowing with the awareness that he had caused it.

But he could do better. He could do so much better!

Or at least he hoped so.

Sansa failed at keeping his hand in place and whined in defeat as Jon hooked his fingers on the waistband of her trousers, pulling them down along with her knickers. She arched her back to help him, undressing awkwardly in such a confined space. He knelt again between her legs, licking his lips wickedly, his eyes fixed on the feast before him, wishing he had more light to truly enjoy the sight.

She was beautiful. So beautiful, panting softly as she waited for him to move, her skin prettily flushed as her chest rose and fell with each ragged breath.

His fingers stroked the small patch of red hair over her mound, raising his eyes to meet hers. He wanted her to look at him. He wanted to see what he was doing to her, see her beautiful face fall apart with pleasure. He heard her mutter some sort of apology, for some absurd reason, but then he was shouldering her legs further apart, the sharp and yet delightful scent of her invading his nostrils each time he lowered his head to plant a kiss on her stomach.

He could take off her sweater first. Discover if the rest of her, the part his eyes couldn’t see just yet, was just as perfect as her bare lean legs, round hips, soft belly. Her pink cunt. Especially her pink cunt.

Jon decided he was particularly fond of it.

Her hand went to the back of his head, tangling in his curls, and when he first kissed her lower lips she grabbed a fistful of his hair, gasping and arching her hips to follow his mouth.

Jon chuckled darkly, an arm over her stomach to pin her down.

“Do you want me to kiss you, Sansa?” he mumbled, his voice low – strangely low even to his ears. Her free arm was splayed on her chest, as if she was trying to steady her breathing. But her lips were parted, her eyes averting his.

Jon turned his face to kiss the inside of her arm, trying to catch her attention. He could barely see her, and he wished there would be another opportunity – please, just another one, just one time he could look at her properly. But if this was all he had he might as well take it.

“Sansa?”

She shook her head, as if he had woke her.

“I… I do” she whispered, nodding. “I do. You’re a good kisser, you know?”

Jon smirked.

“I… Thank you. But no, that’s not what I meant.” He dragged a finger between her lips, and she bit back a moan. “Here, sweetheart. Do you want me to kiss your pretty cunny?”

She shivered, her lower lip still trapped between her teeth.

He counted his breaths, huffing from his mouth, and he counted hers, just as unsteady as his. His face scorched, but he couldn’t know if it was embarrassment or some sort of anticipation, his blood hot in his veins as he thought about her teeth digging on her swollen lip, her head thrown back as she came on his mouth.

She gulped, and dragged her tongue across her lips. That too made Jon’s trousers incredibly uncomfortable.

But not yet. Not just yet.

She nodded, and this time Jon’s heart jumped in his chest, filling him with warmth. So he gave a short nod, and received another one in return. A silent understanding between them as Jon lowered his head once more, the rich scent of her surrounding him, intoxicating him.

His fingers gently parted her folds, and the taste of her in his tongue was just as delicious as her perfume on his nostrils, hot and tangy and wonderful. So, so, _so_ wonderful!

“God… Oh, good god…” she breathed, her nails digging on his scalp as his tongue found her clit. Jon heard a muffled cry and raised his eyes to her. She had her head thrown back already, her palm covering her mouth as a low hum reverberated through her whole body and made Jon’s lips tremble.

He laughed, his chest filled with pride as he increased the pressure on his tongue, one hand curling over her hip to hold her in place and the other on Sansa’s thigh, spreading her even more for him.

For him. Just for him.

Finally. Finally! He had wanted her for so long.

Too long.

But she was always braver than him anyway.

She scratched his scalp, bringing him even closer to her, and Jon groaned with satisfaction. She was always so polite and proper. So careful not to upset anyone with what she truly wanted or wished to do. Too worried about making everyone happy. But this…

Fuck, his trousers were tight!

This… He rather liked this part of her. The woman that curled her ankles on his back and trapped his head between her thighs as she keened eagerly, the sharp taste of her in his tongue intoxicating him. Like some drug he’d craved for so long and knew would soon be addicted to.

He felt her legs shaking under his hand. She was close, so close and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever done.

“Can I?” he asked, one of his fingers barely touching her entrance. But Jon didn't recognise his own voice, too low, too rough.

It had sounded more like a demand than a request.

“Yes! Lord almighty, Jon…” she panted, moving her hips, chasing his touch. “This is too good, please. No one’s ever- God!“

He froze.

“No one’s ever what, Sansa?”

No, it couldn’t be like this, then. Not just some rushed shag in a tent with her older brother just a couple of feet away. No, not like this. He should have taken her out to diner first, some really nice restaurant. And of course there should have been candles, and some soft music. Maybe he’d dance slowly with her first, she would like that. And Jon would have worn his best shirt, and combed his hair. And shaved. He would have shaved, instead of looking like some beggar. And showered. He would have showered too.

But she deserved better. If this was her first time she deserved much better.

“No one’s ever kissed me like that.”

Her voice was barely a whisper in the dark.

“No one’s ever kissed you like that…” he trailed off, not knowing how to ask. “Or no one’s ever done anything…?”

“I’ve had sex. With men, Jon. If that’s what you want to know” she declared, sharply, and Jon wanted to kick himself.

But jealousy was stronger than shame. And he decided he would be the best shag she’d ever had. So good she would want to fuck him for the rest of her life and no one else. No one would ever be good enough for her again.

Well, to be honest, he wasn’t certain _he_ was good enough for her anyway.

His lips returned to her nub, and his forefinger slipped inside of her almost too easily, his chest swelling with pride. She tugged at his curls, trashing against his mouth wildly, chasing her own pleasure.

“So no one was smart enough to lick this pretty little cunny of yours, were they?” he muttered, a smug smile on his face as he added a second finger and curled them inside of her.

Fuck, she would feel so good around his cock. He would have to think about the most disgusting things in the world if he wanted to last more than a second.

He heard a sharp cry, muffled by her fist.

“Jon, please, don’t stop!” Sansa begged, her heel kicking his back.

He sucked on the little bundle again, and increased the pace of his fingers.

“Do you miss them? Do you miss your pretty bratty boys?”

His fingers were so wet, so wet, and he took them out to lick them.

She whimpered, sitting up in one swift motion and catching his wrist, her nails digging on his skin.

“Will you stop playing games, already?” she demanded, and for a heartbeat Jon felt terrified of her. Her free hand dropped to the waistband of his trousers, her fingers curling around his painfully hard cock.

Jon closed his eyes, throwing his head back, wishing this wasn’t just one of his dirty dreams.

“And you, Jon? Do you miss those other girls?” she asked, against his ear, making him shiver.

He shook his head. He couldn’t talk right now.

But if he enjoyed this too much…

“Who’s playing games now?” he asked, catching her hand and forcing her to stop. “Don’t torture me, Sansa.”

She curled her arms around his neck and sucked on his lower lip, her hands trailing down his bare shoulders, his chest, up his arms.

“God, Jon, you’re so beautiful…” Her breath fanned against his beard. “But I’ll be good to you if you are good to me.”

So he hadn’t been good enough, uh? He’d show her-

She reached for something inside some small bag, and threw it at him.

Jon twisted the package between his fingers, not knowing what to say. His brain definitely not functioning.

“Were you… Hmm… Were you…” he babbled, but she was taking off her sweater and Jon knew if he didn’t speak now he would never be able to speak again. “Were you expecting this?”

Sansa’s hands stopped behind her back before she could unhook her bra, as if she too had been caught by surprise.

“No. Not really. I mean, yes, in a way.” Now she was the one having trouble with her words. Jon felt his eyes opening even further. “I mean, you and I, we…”

“We’ve been doing this stupid dance for quite some time, haven’t we?” he offered, his lips on her shoulder as he dragged the tiny strap down.

She muttered something in agreement.

His mouth fell open, her body barely visible in the clearly inadequate light of her phone. If only… If only there was another time. Please, please. He would be good for the rest of his life, if only there was a second time. He would kiss every inch of her at noon so he could look at her properly. Study every freckle, every little dimple. See the look she made when she finally came apart in his arms.

He groaned at the thought, but his hands were already cupping her breasts, squeezing them gently, and a tiny whimper escaped her lips.

“You have the most beautiful tits I’ve ever seen” he declared, before he could really think.

“Jon” she begged, thrashing under him.

“I’ll be good to you, Sansa” he vowed, catching a taut nipple between his teeth. She scratched his shoulders, arching against his mouth. He manoeuvred them, so she was laying back again, her thighs curled around his waist as he lapped at her breasts. “I promise I’ll be good to you, sweetheart. I’ll always be good to you.”

“Jon” she whispered again, covering his hand with hers to catch his attention. “Please, Jon, please. I want you. Please.”

He sat back on his heels and rolled the condom down his length with her legs still around him. His fingers caressed her entrance once more, making sure she was ready. He was hard, so hard, and that she was this wet for him only made him harder.

He aligned his cock with her cunt, and heard the sharp intake of breath from her mouth.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, brushing her hair from her face. It was too dark, but he could still see a faint glimpse of her eyes, half hidden behind her long lashes.

She licked her lips and gave him a reassuring smile.

“Just…” she mumbled, frowning again as her hands came to rest on her own shoulders, as if she was trying to protect herself.

Jon didn’t like it.

He froze, with a hand awkwardly around his shaft and the other supporting his weight right next to her head – not trapping her hair this time, though.

“Just don’t slam it in, okay?” He could barely hear her voice. “It’s… hmm… It’s been a while and… God, when did I forget how to speak?”

Jon chuckled, and leaned forward to press his lips to her forehead.

It’s been a while, she says… It’s been forever for him! He’s sure he’ll come as soon as he’s inside her, like some overeager teenager.

“It’s been a while for me too, Sansa. I’m just as nervous-“

“You’re a little bigger than-”

_Don’t say Joffrey. Don’t say Joffrey. Don’t say Joffrey._

He kissed her lips for good measure, even though his chest was swelling with pride.

She moved her hips against his, groaning inside his mouth when Jon took that as his queue to finally enter her.

“Fuck, Sansa” he muttered against her ear, his fingers clawing at the sleeping bag under them as Jon fought to keep still. It was too much, too good, the way he had slipped inside her effortlessly, her wet heat deliciously welcoming him. “Fuck, you feel so good, darling! So, so good… So wet and warm.”

Jon moved his other hand to her hip, gently caressing it, waiting for her to say something. To let him move. His breath hitched in his throat, his heart pounding in his chest.

_Please. Please, please, let me move. _

“Jon” she mewled, and he kissed her knuckles, her fingers still resting on her collarbones.

“Touch me, sweetheart” he begged, his lips moving to her other hand while he tried hard not to focus on how tight her sweet cunt was around his cock. “Please, Sansa, touch me.”

Her fingertips tentatively stroked his beard, and Jon closed his eyes to better enjoy the feeling. Then down his neck, combing through his loose curls. And then down his back, exploring the dip of his spine and making him purr with delight.

She seemed to have woken up from her daze, raising herself slightly to suck on his neck while she dug her elegant fingers on his ass cheek.

“Feeling brave, uh?” he teased, the hand on her hip crawling up to cup her breast once more.

“Move” she breathed against his skin, arching against his touch, and Jon was too happy to obey.

Fuck…

He bit his lip so hard Jon was sure he could taste blood, his fingers so tight beside her head his wrist was starting to hurt.

_If they… If Robb hears me… If Robb hears us, I’m dead._

That was a good thought to keep himself from coming too soon. But, fuck, it was so good, so, so, so good, the wet noises filling his ears, the sharp scent of her surrounding him, her hot breath clinging to his skin…

“Sansa” he panted, catching her leg and curling it around his waist.

She moaned louder, too loud, and Jon wished they were alone, maybe in his bed, far more comfortable than this sad excuse of a mattress that did nothing to protect his knees. He would make her scream so hard her throat would hurt for weeks.

He would…

What if this was all he would ever have?

“Sansa, please” he tried again, stopping for a heartbeat, even though it took all of his strength to do so. But her hips kept chasing him, chasing him... “You have to be a little quieter, love.”

“Oh.” She froze too. “Oh, I’m sorry. I… I got a little carried away, I’m sorry.”

He wanted to kick himself.

“No!” There. There’s no way no one heard him.

Jon waited a couple of heartbeats, heard some rustling, and then silence again.

She giggled.

“Do you think they heard us?”

He chuckled too.

“I hope not.” He stroked some strands away from her face, and wished he could see her – she could see him, really. See all the words he couldn’t say. Everything he… Everything he didn’t know how to say to her. “Though I’m tired of hearing _them_.”

Yes, he was. He was really tired.

Jon curled his arm around her waist, his blood boiling again when his cock slipped out of her.

His best mate was truly enjoying himself in this trip, wasn’t he? And Sansa was her own woman, wasn’t she? And this was the XXI century, wasn’t it?

“Ride me.” His voice sounded rougher and more demanding than he had intended when he spun them.

She planted her hands on his chest, Jon’s fingers on her hips while he guided her to where he needed her.

“What? Jon, I haven’t-“ she mumbled, worrying her lip and tucking her hair behind her ear. “I have never done this before, I wouldn’t know… I wouldn’t know what to do.”

Jon smirked, leaning forward to kiss her lips.

“Well, you kissed me first, so I’m pretty sure you know how to take the lead in this as well, Sansa” he whispered, his forehead against hers, his hand cupping her perfect, perky ass. And it made him feel… It made him feel unworthy. She was so perfect. She was… She was Sansa. She was Sansa and she had curled her small hand around his cock and was lowering herself over it and he had to kiss her again to muffle the roar that threatened to escape his mouth.

“Fuck” she panted, Jon’s hands guiding her back and forth as he thrusted up, his knees happy to finally get some rest from the hard ground – though his back would soon complain too. “Fuck, Jon, this is so good!”

“I said I’d be good to you, darling” he managed between breaths, but it was getting harder and harder to say anything, his arms taut as he tried to last a little longer, just a little longer, but he knew he couldn’t. “And you’re so good… Hmm, Sansa… So good, sweetheart...”

He brought his fingers to her nub once again, rubbing it in quick circles. He felt his balls pulsing and knew he was close, too close, his neck hurting.

“Will you come for me again, Sansa?”

She hummed, leaning back and moving frantically against his touch, her almost silent whimpers fuelling his need.

“Oh, fuck” he breathed, her hand quickly over his mouth to muffle the litany of louder fucks that followed the first one as he lost control of his own body, his skin impossibly tight over his muscles as he came.

But that didn’t stop him, not while he was still hard and his fingers still did what they were told. Sansa bit her own fist, her sweet cunt pulsing around him, her body shaking when she followed him.

She collapsed on top of him, her hair caressing his chest, her clammy legs caging him under her. His eyelids were heavy when he pressed his lips to her forehead, and she purred when his arms closed around her body, bringing her as closer as possible.

How he wished they could stay like this. Keep each other warm all night. And maybe – just maybe – he would wake her up at some point while everybody else was still asleep, his fingers stroking her folds once more. Or maybe he would find her sweet mouth sucking on his cock.

Jon smirked, his muscles sore and too heavy to move. His imagination did paint some wonderful pictures sometimes.

Sansa shivered, and he fished for her sweater.

“I should go” he muttered.

But he didn’t want to.

He wanted to stay. He wanted to stay with her in his arms. If this was all they had…

“Okay” she whispered, peeling herself from him and starting to dress herself again.

Jon scratched the back of his head.

“Sansa, I…. Yeah, I really should go.”

“Here.” She tossed some plastic pack at him. “If you’d like to… If you’d like to clean yourself.”

Why was this so awkward? Had they ruined everything? Had _he _ruined it?

He knew. He knew he shouldn’t have done this. Sansa was his best mate’s sister! For fuck’s sake, Sansa was his friend too. Maybe not his closest friend, but still.

He took off the rubber and did as told, crumpling everything in his hand before tossing it in his pocket to throw away later.

“I’m sorry, I’m terrible at this” she tried, her fingers curling around his, and his chest burst. “Do you regret it?”

His eyes almost popped out of his orbits.

“If I…?”

His hand went to the back of her head, his lips crashing against hers, their tongues dancing together, making him dizzy once more.

No. No, this couldn’t be it. This wouldn’t be it.

He was a greedy man. Too greedy, taking more than he could. More than he deserved.

She chuckled when they parted.

“You don’t, then?”

“Not in a million years.”

She caressed his beard, smiling softly.

“They’re going fishing tomorrow. Maybe my tummy will hurt, or I’ll have a migraine, I don’t know just yet” she said.

“Oh.”

“Maybe you’ll feel sick too. Maybe it was something we both ate” she suggested, and she had a full smile now.

Well, Jon knew he had eaten something, but it certainly wouldn’t make him nauseous or anything. Maybe he’d have it again tomorrow. And the day after. And the next day too.

She kissed him again. And another time after he put on his shirt. And another when he was leaving to sleep by the fire as he had intended to.

But this time he fell asleep with a stupid smile on his face.

At least he’d have tomorrow too. 

* * *

“Well, you owe me” Theon muttered between gritted teeth.

“No, all of you owe me!” Jon screeched. “Mostly Robb. I spent my night here out in the cold so he could fuck his girlfriend and-“

Theon slapped the back of his head.

“No, you stupid twat. _You_ owe _me_.” Theon repeated, with an annoying half-smile on his face. Jon hated that smile. “Do you think nobody heard you last night?”

Jon felt his face burn.

The others weren’t that far, preparing everything for their small trip. Well, Sansa wasn’t. She had the worst face Jon had ever seen on her, taking small sips from her water bottle as if that too was too much for her stomach. Jon had tried that number as well, but he wasn’t that good of an actor and was certain nobody was buying it.

Though Sam had said that maybe it was best for Jon to stay, in case Sansa – clearly worse than him – needed anything.

“Robb will kill you, and the problem is I think you deserve it. I mean, he was always worried about me, when the real threat was right behind his nose.”

“Hush, Theon!” Jon growled.

“Well, you should be the one being more careful.” His tone was menacing. “I had to pretend I was snoring much louder than I needed to be – both because I was trying not to hear your disgusting ‘hmpf’ and ‘ah’ and ‘oh, Sansa!’ and ‘oh, Jon!’ – and to save your ass from Robb. Disgusting, really.”

Jon let his head fall, trying to hide his blush from Theon.

Theon squeezed Jon’s shoulders, a loud laugh echoing through the trees.

“I’m happy for you, really” Theon said. “God knows you both needed a good fuck!”

“Oh, shut up!”

Jon knew he should kill him. But he couldn’t. That silly smile was splattered on Jon’s face again.


End file.
